Dear Friends,

"Death cannot sever our connection to those we have lost. The soul is eternal and can never be extinguished. But not only the soul survives the grave. The bonds of love are stronger than death. The lessons that our loved ones taught us, their goodness, their deeds, their wisdom will remain with us always. They have left a permanent imprint upon our souls that never be erased. They continue to guide us wherever we go.

Most people think heaven is a far-off place. But perhaps heaven is closer than we think, perhaps our loved ones are with us. Perhaps they are silently watching over us and sheltering us and guiding our steps. I believe that we are surrounded by the loving presence of those we have loved and lost. May they continue to be with us; may they bless us and inspire us to goodness, in death as they did in life. "(Rabbi Naomi Levy)

Death is not the end. Our loved ones are not just memories. They do live on. We seek their presence, listen for their voices, even after they move on, from this world to the world to come, from our hands to the hands of God.

When faced with the hard questions, we know what they would have said. And so, they still speak to us, still guide us. The body is temporary, a gift from God, a gift on loan, a gift we return in the end. But, the soul is eternal, it remains. We live on.

They continue to guide us. They watch over us. And, we will never forget them. Our lives will never be the same. There is no way we can truly repay them for their kindness, for all they’ve done for us. So, we live on, in their names. Making a difference in the world on their behalf, continuing the work they have started.

Just as God is all around us and in every one of us, so too do they live in us and all around us. And, we don’t move on broken, lost. We move on whole, in our prime. We are young again, playing, dancing, our loved ones waiting for us. Sometimes, the soul moves on slowly, piece by piece. We may even say goodbye, over time, to their eternal soul in heaven, while their physical body still remains here on this earth.

Life is a privilege. Love is a gift. We learn all too often that we must make the most of our fleeting lives. We are selfish. We are allowed to be. We would give anything for one more day with them. But, we also want to be compassionate, merciful, and pray for their souls to be at rest, for our loved ones to rest in peace.

It is not about how long we live or how much stuff we acquire, but in how we spend our time:
     I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on his tombstone from the beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of his birth and then spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For the dash represents all the time that he spent alive on earth. And now only those who loved him know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own; The cars...the house...the cash, What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

God does not look at what we take with us, but at what we leave behind. God looks at our life’s receipts. Only at the end of our lives, do we know what we’ve done. It is not about the destination, but the journey. Life is a journey, a spiritual journey, a sacred pilgrimage.

According to Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, our loved ones soul remains on this earth, taking us through the mourning process. They do not move on until we are ready. It may take days, weeks, years, or forever; but, they remain with us until we do not need their presence any longer. For, what is the goal of mourning? But the sense of their presence. We begin the process with the overbearing weight of loss; but, we pray that, one day, that feeling of loss will be replaced with a feeling of presence. The feeling, the knowledge, that they are still with us.

I do not believe that God pushes the buttons. Innocent suffering does not mean that God does not love us or that there is no God. I believe that God cries along with us. God is the shoulder that we cry on. God is how we get through our loss. God can be our strength.

At the time of Jewish death, we tear our clothes. Why? Because of the mitzvah, the commandment, to comfort the mourners. But, to give comfort is easy, compared to taking comfort, taking sympathy. It is harder to receive than to give. So, we tear our garment in order to show that we are in mourning, that we are distraught, and it is an outward sign that we need comfort. And, we are commanded to ask for help.

Love is stronger than death. Heaven is closer than we think. Our feelings of loss mirror our feelings of love. We can’t have one without the other. Therefore, I’d like to conclude with the words of Rabbi Morris Adler:
     Shall I cry out in anger, O God, because your gifts are mine but for a while? Shall I forget the blessings of health, the moment it gives way to illness and pain? Shall I be ungrateful for the moments of laughter, the seasons of joy, the days of gladness and festivity?

When a fate, beyond my understanding, takes from me friends and kin whom I have cherished, and leaves me bereft of shining presences that have lit my way through years of companionship and affection, when tears cloud my eyes and darken the world and my heart is heavy within me, shall I blot from my mind the love I have known and in which I have rejoiced?

Shall I grieve for a youth that has gone, once my hair is gray and my shoulders bent, and forget the days of vibrancy and power? Shall I, in days of adversity, fail to recall the hours of joy and glory you once granted me? Shall the time of darkness put out forever the glow of the light in which I once walked?

Give me the vision, O God, to see and feel that imbedded deep in each of your gifts is a core of eternity, undiminished and bright, an eternity that survives the dread hours of affliction and misery.

Those I have loved, though now beyond my view, have given form and quality to my life, and they live on, unfailingly feeding my heart and mind and imagination. They have led me into the wide universe I continue to inhabit, and their presence is more vital to me than their absence.

What You give, O Lord, You do not take away, and bounties once granted, shed their radiance evermore. Within me your love and vision, now woven deep into the texture of my being, live and will be mine forever.

And Let Us All Say Amen.

Rabbi Alex 

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